


Two Gods and the Oasis

by ChainSmokesPens



Category: Original Work
Genre: Deities, F/M, Flash Fic, Old Gods, Pagan Gods, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28572699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChainSmokesPens/pseuds/ChainSmokesPens
Summary: Prompt: [WP] Two forgotten gods come together to reminisce and to bid each other farewell as the remnants of their divinity slip away.





	Two Gods and the Oasis

The heat of the dessert had never bothered Angra. Nor had the golden sands or the volatile fauna, pushed to aggression to survive this environment.

Now, as his tattered robes couldn't protect him from the sun's abusive heat, the rough sands slashed at his worn feet like blades of glass, and his heels were riddles with the stings of scorpions and bites of vipers, he found the world that had trapped him as vicious as he's wanted it to be.

In spite of his suffered, millennia of intent behind these small torments kept him from being discouraged. Still, he longed to find Nil. Though, after spending the past month walking through the dessert, he was wondering if he was growing concerned about his orientation.

He saw a line of blue through the haze. He thought it was a hallucination, before he shook the thought from his head. Low as he was, and lower still as he had become, mental weakness was beneath him. Squinting, he could see that among the white sands there was, indeed, a turquoise line that spread itself across the horizon.

He felt his heart pang as a compulsion to run toward it rushed through him. He stifled that compulsion. Desperation, much like mental weakness, was beneath him.

He took measured, albeit more confident, steps forward. The turquoise line expanded and divided into parts of cool blue and lush green. Spread across the entirety of the horizon was an oasis.

Aspects came into focus as Angra approached. The waters were a deeper blue than Onye's oceans itself. The branches of the trees drooped with the weight of the fattened fruit that hung from them, roots spreading over the surface of the waters creating winding paths, hanging vines running between them. Birds with the plumage of rainbows, birds that had long been extinct, birds that modern humanity would technically no longer consider birds, flew among the trees, singing in a whistled chorus.

Still a mile away, enraptured in the beauty of this oasis, Angra knew one thing. This wasn't Nil. This wasn't the great river he'd set out to find. He'd absolutely gone the wrong way.

He considered turning around, a prospect that would've been ludicrous were he human, but decided not to when he spotted a figure in the distance.

She stood from the edge of the waters and proceeded to walk along the winding root paths. It seemed to turn to Angra and he felt a sharp pang in his chest. He knew exactly who that was. And she'd had the audacity to smile at him.

After millennia of fighting over humans, after eons of conflict before that, she dared to smile.

Angra broke into a sprint, running for the oasis. The figure moved further within the trees, walking, though proceeding just as quickly as Angra was pursuing.

He slowed briefly, only to stoop and drink some water. Taken from the greater body, the water in his palms retained their deep blue color. As he brought them to his lips he knew why. As he tilted his head to drink, the water continued to pour forth. What should have been a drink of water able to fill a bowl became enough to fill a barrel, then a storehouse of barrels. He dropped his hands again to check how much water remained.

Nearly the same amount. Still a deep blue.

He dropped in into the oasis before breaking into the forest. He hopped along the natural bridges, occasionally swinging from the dense vines, until he found her.

And he felt shame.

Here he stood, blistered from the sun and draped in rags, flesh punctured by the animals he'd pulled from the stars to torment man on Earth, stomach hollowed and muscles atrophied from weeks without sustenance, and his body covered in a thin layer of sand and dirt.

There she lay, among a lounge of ferns, dressed in white robes spun from clouds and embroidered with gold scrapped from the sun, flesh smooth and shining with the gloss of her extravagant herbal baths, thighs and belly thick from a diet of fruit and pork, her skin soft with only the slightest kiss from the sun that broke through the foliage in sparkling rays.

Isha smiled at him, presumably again, and moved over on the ferns to make space for Angra. He refused.

"What will you do now? Your zealots have long since passed and your kingdom has been abandoned. Your followers have turned to others to have their prayers answered." He looked at her as scornfully as he could, his eyes constantly having to pull up to meet hers properly.

Isha patted the spot next to her again.

Angra refused to move. "Your holy kingdom has fallen to ruin. And the kingdoms of your children have been consumed by the dust. Neither you nor I could have predicted that time would have defeated you; not my mighty army."

Isha cocked an eyebrow and patted the ferns again.

Against his own judgement, Angra found one of his feet moving forward. He caught himself. Not moving forward, so as to not look like he'd given in, and not retracting it, so as to not look like he was afraid.

He snarled. "What did my brothers and sisters look like as they died?" he spat out.

Isha lost her smile.

Seizing this small victory, he continued. "Did Onye weep backed tears as his seas were filled with pollution? Did Dem scream in pain as the forests were torn down? Did your angels choke on the black ash of industrialization and plummet towards the Earth?"

Isha's eyes shone with withheld tears.

"Did Parin give into his bloodlust and ravage the masses? Did Ynnia drink herself to death? Did Cleonie birth her last living child? Did Zepheles seclude himself in the palace? Did Maya-"

The tears poured from Isha's face. Angra found his feet pattering along the ground to meet her. He stopped himself.

Isha wasn't the only one crying. He was as well, mourning over the deaths of the other deities. Many some his relatives, all his rivals, he wept for them. Isha had probably cried herself sick over them forever ago. These tears were almost certainly for him.

He looked up and realized that he was bowing, Isha's hand held in his, though unsure of who was comforting who. When he leaned his head forward to rest against her knee, he knew.

Angra felt her hands on his shoulders as she pulled him onto the ferns. He rested his head on her arm as he looked up at her. "Did they forgive me?"

Isha nodded.

The next question hammered at the back of Angra's mouth. He let it come out, tired. "Do you forgive me?"

Her thigh came up and over his abdomen, her chest pressed into his arm, her thin fingers tilted his head upwards, and she leaned down into a kiss.


End file.
